Dark Matter

by Blake Crouch

the beautiful thing about youth. There’s a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential.

Aside from each other, this box is the only constant we have. A very tiny boat in the middle of a very large ocean. It’s our shelter. Our prison. Our home.

I suppose it all comes down to wanting what I didn’t have. What I perceived might have been mine through a different set of choices.